Interested
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: What do you do when she consumes your mind? How do you get through each day? Why is she so fascinating? General musings on a crush.
1. Chapter 1

I watch her. I can't help it.

Not that she seems to notice, though I don't know how she could miss it.

It's probably pretty creepy, the way I stare at her, but there's not much I can seem to do about it. She's the most fascinating person I've ever known. I've known that for years, though, since the first moment we met. She's so full of passion and life. She's infinitely intriguing. All I want is to be around her all the time.

I'm lucky, in a way. She lets me get away with it usually. Of course, it's just as a friend, which drives me up a wall, but at least I get to be around her. We hang out, usually with Harry, and we do stuff like shoot pool or play poker. One wouldn't think that, because she's so hot-tempered, that B'Elanna would be good at a game where it's important to have no tells, but her poker face is pretty amazing. When credits and rations are on the table, she's as calm as a sunny day on the holodeck. It's fun, though, being able to spend time with her and to get to know her, but it still feels like she wants to keep me at arm's length.

It's maddening.

The moment I ask her to do something with just me, I'm rebuffed. If we're working on something for the ship, it's not a problem. She'll spend hours on end with me without a second thought. But the moment I ask her to dinner—not because we're in the middle of working and we need fuel to go on sort of way, but in a way that it would mean just the two of us enjoying each other's company, where I pick her up and take her to the holodeck—she refuses. She somehow manages to be polite about it, but she leaves no room for second-guessing.

That never seems to stop me from asking again, though. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment. It doesn't seem to matter how many times she's turned me down—and I've stopped keeping count—I ask again. I guess I just have to hope that she'll accept at some point. I would have thought I'd have gotten tired of pining away for this woman—I've seldom pined in my life, and that's only ever been for a few days. A week, tops. I'll pursue a woman for as long as it takes, whether that means she finally goes out with me or I get a definitive "no." I suppose the closest I've come to pining has been with Kes, but even then, I didn't chase her around constantly, and I certainly didn't focus all of my efforts on her all the time. Hell, I'm not entirely sure I didn't want her simply because I knew she was completely unattainable…and to irritate Neelix.

B'Elanna's a whole different situation. I just can't give up on her. I keep trying to convince myself to, but every time, I'm just drawn back to her. It doesn't help that it feels like she sends me mixed signals. I suppose I could just be imagining it, but I don't think I am. She'll tell me "no" for a date, but she's almost always on board to spend time together after hours, at least in a group. The first time I asked her out, she wouldn't stop smiling. She turned me down, very kindly, actually, but she smiled. It was almost like she was…not flattered, not exactly, but maybe happy. Maybe I just caught her off guard, but it was all the encouragement I needed to ask her out again.

And again…and again.

I'm pretty sure I'm not actually harassing her—I feel like she'd have no trouble at all letting me know if I was really bothering her. I just want to be around her. Half the time, I don't even mean to ask her out. It just happens. We'll be talking, working, whatever, and she'll look at me differently than normal, or her hand will just barely brush against mine, and all of a sudden, I'm asking her to dinner. Again. And she says no. Again. With a smile. A small, delicate curve of her lip that seems to say that she's happy that I asked, or at the very least she thinks I'm a little cute.

She flirts with me, too. I'm sure she'd deny it, but she does all those things that girls do when they want to let a guy know that he's not completely wasting his time. Stupid stuff like crossing her legs in my direction, or tapping her foot against mine, or sitting next to me in the Mess Hall, or reaching out and touching my arm when she wants my attention, and not letting go once she has it. She'll look up at me from under her eyelashes, bite her lip, then look away. Hell, she even laughs at my jokes. I'm not that funny. The only explanation I can think of is that she kind of likes me. Or, at least, she doesn't hate me.

I have to admit, I was well and truly shocked when she agreed to this almost-date tonight, even though "date" is a really optimistic word for it. Eternally-in-love-with-the-wrong-girl Harry—though who am I to judge on that front?—and drier than a desert Vorik make for horrible chaperones. Still, I figure that if it got B'Elanna to the luau, it's a small price to pay for a night in her company. She even put on a dress for the occasion. I almost didn't know what to do with myself. Most of us rarely wear anything but our uniforms, so to see her in something not only outside of standard regulation, but in something so girly almost did me in. Just that alone was definitely worth having Harry and Vorik with us.

Somehow, though, Vorik of all people managed to turn this event into a date with B'Elanna. I still don't know how that happened. All he did was say he'd reserved a table for the two of them and she went. The little weasel.

If I'd known it was that easy, I would have done it myself ages ago.

Maybe she likes him.

No. No way. Not judging by the look on her face when he announced that he had a cozy little table with a view of the lake just for them. And if the expression that's been on her face for last hour or so is any indication, I have no reason to worry. Not about Vorik, at any rate. Any time he's happened to glance away from her she's met my eyes, looking vaguely horrified and more than a little bored. I've tried to give her encouraging smiles—not too encouraging, though—and she seems to appreciate it.

I figured I'd at least have Harry to keep me company for the evening. With the both of us having women troubles, I assumed we'd commiserate and maybe manage to cheer each other up. No such luck. Pretty early on, Harry went to sulk in his quarters and I was left to my own devices on the holodeck, glowering in a corner.

I'm fairly pathetic by this point, but at least I can admit it.

I let out a sigh and down the rest of my drink—some fruity, sweet concoction that has nowhere near enough alcohol to make it bearable. With nothing left to distract myself, I settle for watching B'Elanna again.

She really does look nice tonight. Pretty. Not that she's isn't always pretty, but tonight it's like she's aware of it. All I really want to do now is find a way to create more occasions for her to wear something other than her uniform.

I can't see a whole lot of her where she's sitting right now, but it's enough to drive me wild. Her shoulders are bare, the neckline is low, and her legs are crossed to the side—definitely _away_ from Vorik. Her legs…I take a moment to look unabashedly at what I can see from my angle. I like it. It's good. The skirt isn't terribly short, though it reveals enough of her toned muscles to let me know I just want to see more. I wouldn't even say she looks sexy, though truth be told, I think she looks sexy in an environmental suit. She looks…charming.

I shake my head, closing my eyes for just a moment. _Charming_. I'm losing my edge. Since when does Tom Paris get turned on by a woman's shoulders and calves?

Since he met B'Elanna Torres, that's when. I'm so pathetic.

I open my eyes again just in time to see her shift, her legs rubbing against each other just for a moment, and I think my mouth actually starts to water. I'm such a letch, staring at her like this, like she's a piece of meat. Really, I should be thrown into the brig for being such a pervert. It's just that this is a side of B'Elanna I never get to see. It's killing me that I don't even get to enjoy her company right now.

This is where I need Harry. He's the only one I've told about my feelings for B'Elanna. Not that I came out and said anything, but he cornered me. He told me I was on the verge of making a public spectacle of myself, and that's when it all poured out of me. It was a relief to have someone to talk to, honestly, and he's been nothing but encouraging about me pursuing her. The Harry Kim stamp of approval. Of course, he's warned me about hurting her—I know he's felt brotherly and protective toward her since they met. Not that she needs protecting, but that's just Harry. If he were here right now, at least I'd have someone to force me to stop staring at her like a creep.

I grab my cup and bring it to my lips, groaning in frustration when I find it empty. I briefly consider forking over the rations to replicate something stronger, but push that aside just as quickly. If I start down that path tonight, I'll wind up doing something really stupid. Like picking a fight with Vorik, or telling B'Elanna how I feel about her.

I blink in surprise when I see her standing next to her table, looking as if she's trying to extricate herself from conversation. Vorik doesn't seem terribly eager to let her leave, but she manages anyway. I feel myself perk up a little—maybe this evening won't be a complete bust.

Unfortunately, she only manages to go a few paces before Freddie Bristow "bumps" into her, nearly setting my teeth on edge. What a chump. What a slimy little bastard. Doesn't he know she's not interested in him? Hasn't she made that clear to him over the last few months?

I laugh mirthlessly to myself, shaking my head. The same could easily be said for me, truth be told. I too am a slimly little bastard that can't take a hint. But Bristow is so…pushy. He's always hanging around Engineering or wandering over to talk to B'Elanna in the Mess Hall, usually while she's eating with me and Harry. It's just rude. I don't know why she hasn't knocked him out.

I suppose there's the vague possibility that even though she said he was a child, she's interested in him. It doesn't seem likely, since she never spends any time with him, but that doesn't mean she can't find him appealing. She certainly doesn't seem to be distressed that he's accosted her. She has her head titled back to look up at him, she's smiling at whatever he's saying, her hands are…clasped behind her back. I breathe a sigh of relief, sending a silent _thank you_ out to the universe.

That's one of those "keep away" pieces of body language. It's not as bad as crossing her arms over her chest, which would be completely closed off, but it's definitely _not_ an invitation. Maybe she's just being polite to him and the conversation happens to be far better than whatever Vorik was talking about. Maybe she likes the attention. She probably doesn't realize it, but she's quite the eligible bachelorette. I'm sure she'd hate that, and would hate even more being described that way. Doesn't stop it from being true. She's beautiful, brilliant, passionate, and people notice. They know they want to figure out how to get close to her. She's desired.

Naturally, the fact that she doesn't see it is what drives all of us in her fan club crazy. She's fairly oblivious to her appeal.

How the hell am I supposed to compete with all of that?

I shake my head as Bristow leans in toward her, smiling in what I assume he believes to be a charming manner. She backs away just a fraction, but it's enough to make me relax a little. Even if I'm wrong about the hands behind the back thing, I'm not wrong about her leaning _away_ from someone. She's definitely not interested in him. No way.

Bristow gestures, and I'm not sure if he's suggesting they go for a walk or dance or for something else altogether, but she shakes her head firmly and ducks under his outstretched arm. Part of me—a very, _very_ small part—feels bad for the guy. I of all people know what it's like to be turned down by B'Elanna. Then again, when she turns me down, she doesn't usually leave the immediate vicinity. At least I have that over the guy.

She grabs a couple of cocktail-filled pineapples off of a passing tray and, in an impressive display of footwork, manages to duck and spin away from the crush of people around her before sliding into the chair next to me. She pushes one of the drinks over to me before dropping her head on the table dramatically, groaning.

"You all right?" I try to play it casual. I don't want to let her know just how thrilled I am that she's sitting with me.

She lifts her head, giving me a look that makes me laugh. She looks around to see if anyone's listening before scooting her chair closer to mine. She props her elbows up on the table and clasps her hands, leaning her cheek against them to hide her mouth, I'm assuming in case anyone who can read lips happens to wander by. "Vorik is so _boring_ ," she whispers to me, her eyes wide.

I chuckle, taking a sip of my drink. "It's 'cause he's a Vulcan," I answer flippantly, but she shakes her head.

"No, that's not it. Tuvok is actually quite interesting, if you take the time to listen to him, but Vorik…I don't think he understands what small talk is."

"Well, then what have you two been talking about for the last couple of hours?" I can hear the edge sneaking into my tone, and she gives me an odd look before continuing.

"Honestly, _I_ haven't been the one doing the talking. It's all him. He's been talking almost exclusively about Engineering since we sat down. It wasn't bad for the first half an hour, but I don't think he knows how to talk about anything else. When he ran out of things to discuss, he started telling me about theoretical problems he's created, then explaining, in great detail, how he's solved them."

"Sounds positively stimulating."

She sighs, grabbing her pineapple. "At least I learned one thing from the whole conversation."

"And what's that?"

"That I can sleep with my eyes open." My drink almost comes out my nose as I snort with laughter and she grins at me, casually taking a sip of her own drink. "Having fun?"

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Oh, yeah. It's a blast."

"What's wrong?"

I want to tell her that it's because I've been crazy with jealousy all night, but I don't think she'd respond well to that. "Harry decided to leave just a few minutes after he got here, so I haven't had anyone to talk to all night."

She looks around the crowded holodeck dubiously. "There was no else to talk to?"

I shrug, leaning back in my seat. "I don't have that many friends, B'Elanna."

She rolls her eyes, giving me an exasperated look. "You have more friends than just Harry," she points out. "There are plenty of people here right now you could be talking to."

"Fine. I guess there are only a couple of people I wanted to spend time with tonight."

I don't think she buys it. She's still looking at me as if I'm ridiculous. "So why didn't you leave?"

"I didn't want to seem antisocial."

"Antisocial," she repeats slowly, and all I can do is grin at her. "You're impossible."

"All part of my charm."

She smiles at me, a small smile out of the corner of her mouth, and I nearly forget my name. I don't understand how it's possible that something so simple can do that to me, but it happens all the time. "Sure it is. We'll call it charm."

I clear my throat and shift, finding it almost impossible to look at her right now without getting down on my knees and begging her to give me a chance. I nod my head in the direction of the table she managed to vacate, where I can see Vorik glancing around, as close to impatient as Vulcans get. "How'd you manage to get away from your handler?"

"He had to pause for air at some point, so I said, 'Excuse me, won't you?' and walked away. It was much easier than giving any other reason for it."

"Impressive. You should consider a career in diplomacy."

She snorts, taking a sip of her drink. "I should. I'm definitely the face of the Federation. I never get mad and fly off the handle."

"I've never met anyone calmer or more collected than you."

Her eyes roll but she smiles despite herself. "The only problem is that he probably thinks I'm planning to come back, and the thought of going back over there makes me want to jump out an airlock."

"Well, why don't you tell him that? You've never been one to mince words, B'Elanna."

"This may come as a shock to you, but I don't actually like being rude to most people, especially my staff. They're easier to work with when they're not plotting my death."

"I hope you're prepared to stretch those diplomacy muscles," I mumble, irritation filling me as I see Vorik heading in our direction. "Here he comes."

"Shit," she hisses, turning her expression into a smile as the Vulcan stops in front of our table. "Hi, Vorik."

"Lieutenant," he replies stiffly. He turns to me, and it's probably my imagination, but I'd swear he bristles, almost sneering. "Lieutenant."

"How's it hanging, Vorik?" I ask, and B'Elanna kicks my foot under the table. I think I do a good job of not letting on that it feels like she broke a bone or two. He, on the other hand, just stares at me, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. I'm sure he's never heard the expression before, but he's likely assuming that it doesn't mean anything good.

Not surprisingly, he chooses to ignore me. "Lieutenant Torres, if you're ready to continue with our conversation."

Nope. Subtlety is not his thing. "I'm sorry, Ensign," she answers, forcing herself to smile brightly. "I've been very rude to Tom this evening. I should spend some time with him, too."

Vorik looks very put upon, but nods anyway, almost as if in understanding. "Very well," he answers, reaching for a chair. "Our topics of discussion will likely be of little interest to Lieutenant Paris, however—"

B'Elanna's eyes grow wide as she realizes her plan has backfired—instead of taking her gentle hint and leaving her alone, he decided that he would just join us. Not exactly what I had in mind, either. "Actually," she says, standing up so quickly her own chair almost goes flying backward. "Tom just asked me to dance. Didn't you, Tom?"

* * *

A/N…I really intended for this to be a one-shot, but then I started writing. And writing. And then I wrote some more. Anyway, it's long enough to break into multiple parts. I probably could have done four chapters, but there's the issue of finding a stopping point for all that. At any rate, I hope you enjoy my attempt to delve into the mind of Tom Paris.


	2. Chapter 2

" _Actually," she says, standing up so quickly her own chair almost goes flying backward. "Tom just asked me to dance. Didn't you, Tom?"_

* * *

Now, I'm not always the smartest guy around and have missed less than subtle hints from people over the years because I've been too focused on myself. However, even if I hadn't registered her cry for help, I immediately realized that it was a chance to be close to B'Elanna in a way that I've never been able to before. "Sure did," I answer, jumping to my feet. I take her hand and she follows willingly. "Excuse us, won't you?"

Vorik looks perturbed, but even he realizes that there's no way to avoid this particular situation. He's probably wondering why he didn't ask her first.

Meanwhile, I'm trying desperately not to focus on the feel her hand in mine. I don't want to think about how it fits perfectly with mine, or how soft her skin is, or how surprisingly delicate it feels compared to the amount of strength it possesses. Instead, I try to focus on leading her to the small, makeshift dance area. The peppy, tropical music that blared throughout the holodeck at the start of the evening quickly filtered into softer, slower stuff, and in between my brooding over B'Elanna, I was happy to realize that the music from my own collection that I'd stuck in there hadn't been removed. I've been tinkering with Neelix's social gatherings for years, throwing in what I feel are necessary and important additions, usually including stuff people can dance to. True, most of it is from the twentieth century, but, in my opinion, some of the best music came from the twentieth century.

I weave us through the small crowd of dancers, a mix of our crewmates and holo-characters, until I land us where I hope will be far enough from Vorik's prying eyes. She doesn't even hesitate before lifting her arms, draping them on my shoulders. I manage to ignore for just a moment that she's actually really willing to dance with me to smile at her amusedly.

"What's that look for?" she asks, her voice taking on a defensive edge.

"This is how you dance? Are we in high school?" I tease, putting my hands at her waist.

"I'll have you know that the last time I danced with someone was at my senior prom."

Well, that's an intriguing thought. "You went to the prom? Seriously?"

She makes a face at me, and I can feel her body tensing beneath my fingertips. "Is it so hard to believe that someone wanted to take me to a dance?"

"Hard to believe that someone would want to take you on a date? No, not at all. I don't doubt that for a second. I find it harder to believe that you wanted to go to something as traditional as a senior prom."

"Sometimes, when you grow up the way I did, being able to do something that all the other kids around you are doing feels nice."

I take her right hand off my shoulder, holding it in mine so that we're dancing a bit more like grownups. "I bet you looked cute in your prom dress."

"I looked all right," she answers coyly, avoiding my eyes, and I realize that, for the first time since I've known her, she might actually be a little bit embarrassed.

"So, tell me about your prom," I say, hoping to keep her from thinking too much about the fact that she's dancing with me.

She shrugs, looking up at me. "Not much to tell. A friend of mine asked me to go with him. We danced, we had a good time, nothing romantic. I don't think there were even any pictures of it. My mother thought it was ridiculous and she wasn't even home when I was getting ready. Still, like I said, we had fun anyway, and most of my classmates were shocked to see me there, so that was an added bonus."

"I take it you didn't get along with most of them," I say needlessly. She's told me parts of this before.

"The only Klingon at a school with nothing but humans? I was a real hit." She shrugs, her arm tightening on my shoulder just a fraction. "It probably would have been different if I'd grown up somewhere like Earth, but Kessik Four was about as backwoods a planet as you can get."

I can't help but snicker at her choice of words. "'Backwoods'? Where'd you hear that expression?"

She pauses for a moment before laughing along with me. "I have absolutely no idea. Probably from you or Harry."

"I guess I've been a bad influence on you," I tease, pulling her closer just a tiny bit.

"You have no idea," she agrees. "Hey. Can you see Vorik?" She asks with barely moving her lips, I suppose just in case he's able to recognize his name being said.

I look out across the luau, attempting to be casual as I search for the eager Vulcan. Sure enough, he's at the edge of the dance area, his eyes trained on the two of us. "Mmm-hmm," I answer, looking back down at her.

"What's his problem tonight?" she asks rhetorically, steering us a little farther across the floor. "I've never seen him behave like this. You think he thought I was really interested in hearing him talk?"

"Beats me." I narrow my eyes at him, though I don't know what I hope to accomplish. If it were anyone else, I'd say he was into B'Elanna, but that just doesn't seem like Vorik's thing, despite his odd behavior tonight. I don't know that he, or any other Vulcan, really are ever "into" anyone. I have no idea how all that works for them, but it still seems unlikely that he's somehow set his sights on the woman currently in my arms.

More likely, he's just annoyed that his conversation has been interrupted. I've found that he's somehow more persnickety than other Vulcans, which is saying something. Still, it'd be nice if he'd stop staring at us as if he's a teacher making sure the kids behave at the school dance.

"You really haven't danced since you were in high school?"

She looks up at me again, squinting her eyes at me. "Well, as much time as we had for socializing in the Maquis, I never seemed to get around to going to a ball or gala."

I cringe, nodding my head. "Sorry. Dumb question."

"Dancing isn't something I've ever had much occasion to do, Tom, nor have I ever really felt the need."

"But it can be so much fun," I protest, daring to pull her just a tiny bit closer. She doesn't seem to notice.

"I guess," she answers noncommittally. "I mean, it was fun at the prom. Maybe I'm just too old for it now."

"Oh, yeah. You're definitely ready for the retirement home."

I feel more than hear her chuckle. I take a chance and draw our joined hands to my chest. She doesn't say anything. A few moments later, she shifts closer to me. Noticeably closer. It takes everything I have in me not to react. I'm actually dancing with B'Elanna. It's never occurred to me that I would ever dance with her. I've been too busy just trying to get her to have dinner with me. Now that I'm getting the chance to actually hold her, even if it's just for a few minutes, I know I want to do it more. I want to hold her every chance she'll give me.

Granted, this will probably be the only chance, but at least I now have a goal in life.

The trouble is, I have no idea what to say right now. All evening, I've been sulking because she's been spending time with someone else. Now, here she is, actually in my arms, and I'm drawing a complete rblank. Under normal conditions, I have no trouble filling in lulls in conversation—one of my more charming qualities on the Bridge, as Chakotay has mentioned from time to time—but right now, I'm so worried about saying the wrong thing to B'Elanna that I just clam up.

This is ridiculous. I'm a grown man. I should know how to speak to a woman. It shouldn't matter that she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, or that I'm so crazy about her that I can't even see straight half the time.

B'Elanna's an entirely different creature than any other woman I've ever known, though. That's the trouble. She's more than just a pretty face or some girl I want to sleep with for a little while before we both get bored with the whole thing. I don't know that I see a long future for us, but I like to hope that it's a possibility. That's why I have to play this differently than I have before. I have to make sure she knows that I'm sincere. I suppose the fact that she's technically shown zero interest in me should put me off, but it hasn't. I just want her to see that I'm a good person, someone she can trust. There are moments where I can almost convince myself that she feels _something_ for me. Even earlier tonight, when she teased me about my powers of persuasion, I could swear she was flirting with me. Something about the tilt of her head and the tone of her voice...it made me tingle. It gave me hope.

She rests her temple against my shoulder and it's all I can do to not freeze in place. This is physical contact in a way we've never contacted. Her body molds against mine. I can feel every curve she has, and I frantically start reciting flight plans in my head as I try desperately to keep myself from reacting. This _cannot_ be the moment my body decides to behave like a horny, thirteen-year-old kid. She would kill me.

My eyes close as I take deep, calming breaths, but all that does it make me aware of just how nice she smells tonight. Not that she usually smells bad, but she always has an aroma of warp engines. It suits her, honestly, and that smell is still there right now, but I think she might have put on perfume. Or maybe that's just her natural scent.

I fight back a groan. If this is her natural scent, I'm a dead man. No one should smell this good without some sort of enhancement.

My eyes open and I glance around at the crowded dance floor. I'm suddenly aware that this is probably going to get the rumor mill cranking. It doesn't take much on this ship, but me dancing with B'Elanna with my eyes closed will have people talking nonstop. At the moment, no one seems to be paying us any attention, but that doesn't mean anything. I know these people. Hell, I've started some of the rumors over the years. I don't even care if they talk about me, I just don't want rumors to get back to B'Elanna and have her blame me or to stop trusting me completely.

Geez, I've come a long way. It wasn't that long ago that I hardly cared about my own life and what happened to it, and now my biggest concern is that B'Elanna Torres believes in me.

I feel her fingers absently plucking at the hair on the back of my neck. What is she doing to me? She's probably lost in her own little world right now and doesn't even realize what she's doing. And is that…she's humming. She's quietly humming along to the music we're dancing to.

I actually don't know what to do with myself right now. She's damn near singing to me. Logically, I know that her humming along to music doesn't actually equal singing to me, but I can't seem to get the rest of me to get on board with that. I strain my ears, trying to figure out what song it is. It's an old standard, I know that much, but even though it's definitely something from my own database, I have a hard time placing it. I'm more of a fifties and sixties guy, but this one has a distinctly thirties feel. I should know all of my own music, but I have a lot of it, and I usually set it to randomize through whatever event Neelix has planned.

 _It Had To Be You_? I pause for a moment, listening, but reject the thought moments later. While I can't deny that it would be somehow amazing for that to be the first song we ever danced to, that's not what it is. _Moonlight Serenade_? No, but that's a good one, too.

I give my head a little shake. Why am I worried about what the song is when I'm dancing with B'Elanna?

I answer myself almost instantly. Because one day, if I'm really, _really_ lucky, I'll get to call this "our song." Granted, I'll do that regardless, at least in private, but maybe it'll matter to B'Elanna.

 _As Time Goes By_! That's it! But the question is, how does she know it? I know she grew up around humans, but the colonies on other planets don't often have the same love of human history that those of us who grew up on Earth tend to have. I suppose it could be one of those things she just picked up on over the years—I really have no idea what or whose history she was exposed to as a kid. Of course, since I try to spread my love of the twentieth century to everyone on _Voyager_ , she could have heard it because of that.

It really doesn't matter, though, other than the fact that I find it fascinating.

She lets out a sigh, the warm air hitting my chest, and I try desperately to bring myself back to the present. I tighten my arm around her waist marginally, holding my breath until I realize she's still not protesting.

I have no idea what I did to deserve this tonight. Even at my most optimistic for the evening, it never crossed my mind to dance with B'Elanna. Considering that just minutes ago, I was pouting by myself, I'd say that the night has turned around quite a bit. The real question is, how do I get her to stay like this for a while longer? I know for a fact that I can't just ask her. If I ask her, she'll become aware of what's going on and probably run for the exit.

Most likely, she's not even aware of what's going on. It seems like she's distracted and lost in her own thoughts, which is fine with me. Just as long as those thoughts don't stray toward wondering why she's still here with me.

I sigh and rest my cheek against the top of her head. Why does dancing with B'Elanna feel so…right? Why does having my arms wrapped around her, and having her arms wrapped around me, seem perfect? Why have I completely lost my head over this woman? This isn't like me at all. I don't get like this. "Love 'em and leave 'em," that's my motto. Or, at least, that's what I like to pretend is my motto. I mean, I guess it's been true at certain points in my life, but not really since I wound up on _Voyager_. Too small of a ship and too long of a journey.

I feel her entire body tense and I freeze, realizing too late that my fingers have been stroking up and down her back. Damn it.

"Is Vorik still watching us?" she asks softly, and I realize I haven't given him much thought the last few minutes.

Somewhat reluctantly, I pick up my head and glance around. As far as I can tell, he's given up on stalking us for the moment.

Damn it.

"I don't see him," I answer just as softly, disappointment filling me as she disentangles herself almost immediately.

"Well," she says, clearing her throat before glancing up at me. "I think it's time to call it a night."

"It's still early," I protest, even though I know it's pointless. "We can hang out, grab another drink."

"And risk getting roped into another one-sided conversation with Vorik?" The corner of her mouth quirks up, and I can't help but grin in response.

"I suppose you have a point." Before I can even finish my thought, she's turned away from me and is heading across the luau toward the exit. I hurry after her, not even caring that I probably look like a pathetic puppy. The noise of the party disappears suddenly as we make our way to the corridor, and she looks at me in surprise.

"What are you doing?"

"I…" I pause, not entirely sure. Other than I knew that I didn't want to let the evening end yet, I can't say for certain why I followed her. "I wanted to make sure you got home all right," I answer lamely, mentally cringing at that response.

She looks at me as if I've lost my mind, and I don't know that I blame her. "What could possibly happen to me between here and my quarters?"

"Is this your first day on _Voyager_?" I ask.

Her mouth quirks up for just a couple of seconds before she reins it in. "I suppose that's fair."

"Besides, if Vorik happens to show up, don't you want a cover story?"

"If he happens to show up?" she repeats disbelievingly.

I shrug, doing my best to be nonchalant. I'm so close to being able to just walk her to her door. I have to play it cool. I don't know how much of it she'll buy, but I have to try to pretend that it's not that big of a deal to me. "Hey, if it doesn't matter to you, it doesn't matter to me. We have no idea where he went. He could be lurking about anywhere. Maybe he's gone back to his quarters for the night. Maybe he's waiting by your door to finish your conversation. Have a good evening, B'Elanna." I take a gamble and walk away, strolling toward the turbolift.

I almost make it to the doors of the 'lift before I hear her sigh. "Fine." I pause and look over my shoulder just a little as she catches up to me, stretching out her arm to tap the call button. Within seconds, the doors open and we're being whisked away to deck nine.

We stand side by side awkwardly, and I search my mind desperately for something to fill the silence. I have so little time alone with her, and I don't want to waste it. "You look really nice tonight." I cringe to myself. Of all the things to say to her _right now_ , I chose to compliment her. Have I learned nothing over the last few years? Typically, unless someone is commenting on her engineering skills, complimenting B'Elanna is not the way to get into her good graces.

Surprisingly, though, she ducks her head and avoids all eye contact. "Thanks," she mumbles, her fingers toying with her dress self-consciously. "I'll probably never have another reason to wear an outfit like this again. I felt like I was wasting replicator rations with it, but…" Her voice trails off as she realizes she's fiddling with her clothes, her hands clasping together suddenly. I take a quick mental note that they're not behind her back, like they were earlier with Vorik, and they're definitely not crossed over her chest. Whether it is or not, I'm taking it as a good sign.

"Well, I think you look great." It takes everything I have to leave it at that. I want to continue to compliment her, I want to ask her to wear the dress again on a date with me, but I hold myself back.

She looks up at me curiously, her lips curving up into a tiny smile. "Thanks," she repeats, sounding sincere.

I smile back, and the 'lift whirs to a halt. Somehow, I'm both relieved _and_ disappointed. At least I won't have the chance to say something really stupid.

She looks at me again out of the corner of her eye before making her way into the corridor. I trail after her again, though this time she doesn't object. Actually, she doesn't seem to notice me at all. She cranes her neck as she walks, I'm assuming to keep an eye out for Vorik. I seriously doubt that he's actually waiting for her at her quarters, but I'm not about to say that to her.

"Hey, wanna meet for breakfast?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Her head whips toward me, her expression alarmed. "Tom—"

"I'm going to force Harry out of his quarters and his funk, even if I have to drag him kicking and screaming," I babble, desperately trying to cover up yet another flubbed attempt at asking her out on a date. "It'll be harder for him to resist if we go together."

"I…I don't know. Maybe. I might be in Engineering early."

Mentally, I wince. Shot down again. Not directly, not completely, and certainly not rudely, but shot down.

"Let me know in the morning, all right?" she continues, and I feel small bits of hope shoot through me. "If I can make it, I will."

"It might not be breakfast," I answer. "Maybe lunch or dinner, depending on how stubborn he's being." What is wrong with me? I couldn't just stop talking and leave it at that?

She gives me a look out of the corner of her eye. "Ohhh-kaaaay," she says slowly. "Just let me know if you need help manhandling him."

Before I can find a way to ruin this, she breathes out a sigh of relief. Her door has come into view and everything is quiet. Not a rogue Vulcan in sight.

"So…" she says, looking vaguely uncertain. "Sorry tonight was so strange."

A million thoughts go through my mind, but I just smile brightly, shrugging. "Just another night in the Delta Quadrant."

She opens her mouth to say something and stops, pursing her lips. She goes to speak again, and rethinks it once more. Finally, she just shrugs, reaching out to pat my arm awkwardly. "Have a good night, Tom."

My mouth drops open as she walks away, though I'm not sure if it's in surprise so much as I'm still trying to figure out what to say to her. She disappears into her quarters a moment later and I nearly collapse against the bulkhead closest to me.

The hell just happened?

I try to regroup, but the entire evening feels like a jumble. Despite the fact that the time I spent brooding felt like an eternity, everything now seems like a blur. I had such high hopes for the night only for them to be dashed rather unceremoniously pretty early on. Suddenly, I was acting the part of her savior—an event not soon to repeat itself, I'm sure—and then I was actually dancing with B'Elanna. In a heartbeat, it was over. I don't even know if I made any sort of progress with her tonight. Am I in her good graces, or have I managed to lose any and all ground somehow? Was actually dancing with her too much? I mean, it was _her_ idea—I didn't coerce her into it somehow. Of course, when it comes to B'Elanna, that can mean very little. It's not as if she hasn't lashed out at me before because of something she's done.

Why do I put up with this?

I sigh, already knowing the answer.

Because I'm crazy about her. I'm more than crazy about her. I'm probably closer to some emotion that I really don't want to consider right now.

Tonight wasn't supposed to be a date. It was just supposed to be a small group of friends having some fun. But...part of me was kind of hoping it'd be a date, or at least date-like. Since Harry knows I have a thing for B'Elanna, I figured it wouldn't be hard to get him to call it an early night or come across a better offer, and I'd be able to just sort of casually spend the evening with her.

But then…Vorik happened.

I think I could actually kill him. I can't believe he just sabotaged the entire evening like that. Inconsiderate little prick. If I could figure out a way to justify it, I'd beat the hell out of him.

I roll my eyes to myself. I'm sure that'd be a great way to impress B'Elanna—beat someone up. Women are always impressed when guys use brute force, right? Of course, Klingons are usually impressed with feats of strength. Then again, B'Elanna does everything in her power to pretend she's not Klingon at all.

I have no idea what the hell to do. Other than leaving the immediately vicinity as soon as possible. If she leaves her quarters for any reason, or in the unlikely event that she asks the computer where I am, the last place I want to be is standing in front of her door.

I stare at the bulkhead outside of her room for a few more seconds before I straighten. The first few steps are hard, but eventually I make it back to the turbolift, absently directing the computer back to my deck. So, the night didn't turn out the way I wanted it to, but I actually danced with B'Elanna. I still can't get over that. In fact, that's probably going to fuel my fantasies for a while to come. I can't imagine anything else major like that happening in the near, or even distant, future. In some ways, it made the evening better than I anticipated, probably because I never anticipated slow dancing.

She'll always keep me guessing, I can say that for sure.

The 'lift slows and the doors open, and I sigh once more. After a few steps, I pause and look around. I suddenly realize that I can still smell her. I look down at my shirt—that dumb, Big Daddy-O Surf Special that I was so impressed with earlier tonight—and for an instant, I can still see her there. I grab the shirt and lift it to my nose, taking a big whiff.

Yep—there she is. I can already tell that it'll be a while before I clean this shirt.

I'm pathetic.

I sniff the shirt again before I drop it into place, grinning from ear to ear as I head back to my quarters.

I'm pathetic, but at least I have goals.

* * *

A/N...Nothing could possibly happen soon after the events of Alter Ego, right? Nothing bigger than dancing for a few minutes, right? Their relationship wouldn't change at all shortly, right?

Anyway, so that's Tom mooning over B'Elanna. Obviously, judging by Blood Fever, he was doing that with some frequency. It just would have been nice if they'd shown that a bit more. So, for those of you who might still be interested in seeing a few of those moments, here's one for you. Also, sorry I'm a bastard and kept forgetting to post this. Hashtag I'm The Worst.


End file.
